


you (shook me all night long)

by daleked



Series: Brief Lives: Alternate Universes [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I Love You, INCEPTWOLF, Multi, SURPRISE FIC FOR YOU WALDEN, THIS IS A THING
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/pseuds/daleked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It starts with a discreet little card. An address and time of the meeting is printed on it, and the card shimmers when they try to view it at different angles. The overall effect, Stiles decides, is all rather moon-like. Ethereal. The words are in a shiny circle in the middle of the card while the rest of the card is pitch-black dotted with pale, translucent sparks, and it looks incredibly expensive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Do we have to swallow it like we usually do after we remember it?" Scott queries, holding the card up to the light. "I think this might cause indigestion."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Probably not," Stiles replies absent-mindedly. "That is, on the swallowing part. I have a feeling a card this posh might mean that we need to present it as proof to enter the meeting grounds."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Scott and Stiles are hired to perform an extraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wldnst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wldnst/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hard Times For Dreamers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/561252) by [wldnst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wldnst/pseuds/wldnst). 



> It all started with [this conversation](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/1698483). Wldnst, my love, I hope this gives you feels. (Or at least makes you half as happy as your stories make me.)

It starts with a discreet little card. An address and time of the meeting is printed on it, and the card shimmers when they try to view it at different angles. The overall effect, Stiles decides, is all rather moon-like. Ethereal. The words are in a shiny circle in the middle of the card while the rest of the card is pitch-black dotted with pale, translucent sparks, and it looks incredibly expensive.

"Do we have to swallow it like we usually do after we remember the details?" Scott queries, holding the card up to the light. "I think this might cause indigestion."

"Probably not," Stiles replies absent-mindedly. "That is, on the swallowing part. I have a feeling a card this posh might mean that we need to present it as proof to enter the meeting grounds."

As usual, Stiles is right. They scope out the place- a nondescript commercial building housing various publishing offices, and hang around the pretentious coffee place opposite the building for a week before the meeting. They observe the people and Scott makes faces at his overpriced americano. Business as usual, then. When the date rolls around, they don swanky business suits and march right in. They wave the card at the reception lady and she sighs, tapping away on her computer.

"The third lift on the left, closest to the vase of lilies. Swipe the card on the reader and press the button." They're both surprised by the set of unusually precise instructions and stumble towards the lift lobby, where they realise that they forgot to ask for which floor to get off on. Scott decides to wing it and does exactly what Reception Lady told him to, watching as the doors slide open to reveal shades of red and gold tastefully decorating the walls of the lift. It's all very Hilton-esque, except for the jet-black panel with an oil painting of a wolf howling at the moon hanging on it.

"So _Twilight_ ," Siles sniggers, and they step in. It is quickly apparent why they weren't told which floor to get off on- there is only one button. Scott jabs it and when the doors close, he starts lecturing Stiles.

"Dude, I have a feeling our client is a Were. You know, because of all the wolf stuff. Don't say anything rude." Stiles folds his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Are we going to stop on the We-Are-Aware-Of-Weres campaign speech now? I did take a class on equal rights and equality for Weres in university too, you know. Plus, I don't insult you on a regular basis on the being a werewolf thing. So just calm down." Scott raises his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay. I was just saying." Stiles gestures to the décor.

"So you think this guy's a werewolf just because he likes wolfy things? You do know he could probably do the whole job himself, right?  _If_ he were a Were."

"Stiles," Scott says patiently. "I can smell it. Tone down the scepticism, please."

"It's not my fault that regular human users react badly to Somnacin," Stiles continues. "It's only Lydia's formula that makes it safe for people like me. I'm just throwing it out there, you know? It's a giant puzzle to me. We're being hired by a man who can solve his own problems. It doesn't make any sense to me." The lift makes a small chiming sound, but the doors don't open. Instead, the 'door open' button flashes insistently.

"Well, that's odd," Stiles comments, reaching for it. Scott stops him with a hand on his arm.

"I know we've reached," Scott says quietly. "But there are guns on the other side."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... All I can say is, Peter Hale is my favourite character to write.

After a long minute, the doors start sliding open of their own accord. Scott wolfs out and lowers his centre of gravity, ready to lunge, and he presses Stiles against the wall of the lift so that he's at least partially shielded.

"Such melodrama," comes a voice, and Stiles peeks out. It's a middle-aged man sitting at a desk with a giant wall of windows behind him, pointing a gun straight at them. The gun is even mounted on his desk, and the barrels stare down Scott. The man waves his hands and swivels the gun to point elsewhere, putting his hands up.

"I'm now just as unarmed as you are, McCall and Stilinski." Stiles stiffens at the use of their real surnames. Scott goes by Scottie Jones and Stiles as Stiles G, ha _ha_ , yes, like Ali G, but classier. Sort of. Barely, even. They step out of the lift and Scott is clearly keeping an eye on the gun, wolf-self threatening to break out at any moment he senses a threat. Mystery Man stands up and places his hands flat on the desk.

"My name is Peter Hale. I am your employee for this job. Please, take a seat. Tea?" They shake their heads and sit on the two chairs in front of the desk. Stiles declines the beverage and sinks into his chair, slouching out of the way of the gun. It's comfortable and squashy, and he quite likes it. Scott is still rigid and glaring at Peter.

"I can smell the wolfsbane in your desk." Peter sighs and sits down, waving an airy hand.

"I always carry wolfsbane with me. As a powerful Were, I have many enemies. Who's to say I won't require wolfsbane, should I be shot by a sniper?"

"Doesn't it affect you?" Stiles asks, curious. Scott always reacts badly to wolfsbane within a ten-metre radius. How can Peter Hale stand to be around it all the time?

"Not especially," Peter says mildly. "It's in an airtight container. The only possible traces of wolfsbane any where else would be in extremely small amounts on the outside of the container from the last time I was forced to make use of it. I see Scott has a very good sense of smell."

"The best," Stiles assures him. "But let's get down to business, Mr. Hale. Who is our target?" Peter opens a drawer and pulls out two slim manila folders, passing them to Scott and Stiles.

"Chris Argent. Head of Hunter Industries. The information you will get for me is in a box. I've sent other teams in previously, and they have reported that the information always takes the form of an ornate jewellry box. Wood inlaid with silver. It doesn't matter what kind of maze you use or what design the area takes. It's the same. I want you to destroy that information."

"If you've sent other teams in, why weren't you able to retrieve it?"

"Chris Argent's mental security is one of the best around. You will need a forger. I have one in recommendation for you. As for the maze, I have looked through your previous in-house works but they aren't complicated enough. Who do you usually work with when outsourcing the architect?"

"Jackson," Scott says. "We won't be able to work with him on this job. He's missing in action." Peter hums.

"I suppose I could provide you with one."

"What makes you think we'll take the job?" Stiles demands. "Obviously high-risk, and Chris Argent is high-profile. There's too much at stake here."

"If you don't take the job," Peter murmurs silkily, looking Stiles right in the eye. "I'll have your assests frozen and liquidated by the time you get in the lift. And your dear father's as well. I don't think you'd like to see his face when he realises his hard-earned cash has been lost by his son... Ahem, in a casino in Las Vegas." Stiles can only gape.

"What's the payout, then?" Scott asks.

"Five million and amnesty from every charge you've ever run from. If you complete this job, it can be your last. A fresh, clean slate. Isn't that what you want?" It is. Peter Hale has hit the nail on the head and he knows it, if the way he settles back in his hair is any indication.

"We'll take it," Scott tells Peter. "What's the timeframe?"

"Mmm. Six months, I suppose. I'll be keeping a very close eye on you two, anyway. Here's the forger's address. He's a Were as well, but I would prefer you stick to dear Lydia Martin's homemade Somnacin. It works so beautifully, wouldn't you agree?" Stiles reads the slip of paper and nods, pocketing it. It doesn't surprise him that Peter Hale knows about Lydia. The way it seems is that Peter has done his research, and is adamant on having Scott and Stiles perform the extraction.

"We'll be in touch," Peter purrs. "Now assemble your team, Avengers."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of this.


End file.
